


Pollination

by Saucery



Series: Volpron [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Planet, Aphrodisiacs, Awkwardness, Banter, Begging, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Boyfriends, Boys Being Boys, Character(s) of Color, Cock Slut, Crushes, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Drugged Sex, Dubious Consent, Epiphanies, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Intoxication, Kneeling, Loss of Control, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mind/Mood Altering Substances, Mutual Pining, Plants, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, STOP LANCE DAS GAY, Sassy, Seduction, Sex Pollen, Sexual Fantasy, Size Difference, Size Kink, Size Queen Lance, Something Made Them Do It, Tropes, Trust, actually no don't stop at all kthx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:30:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9964355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: In which a species of alien flower plays matchmaker.Or, the obligatory sex pollen story.





	

* * *

 

Crash-landing on a mysterious jungle planet wasn’t Hunk’s idea of a pleasant trip, especially when Lance disappeared into the undergrowth shortly after their landing. Lance had said he was going food-gathering, but Hunk was worried that Lance was on the verge of getting turned into food himself, perhaps being stalked by carnivorous alien fauna that was on the hunt for its next meal.

Which was why Hunk had volunteered to find him. Hunk knew he was _way_ tastier than Lance. Lance’s scrawny body was the equivalent of an afternoon snack compared to the veritable banquet that was Hunk’s generous figure. All Hunk had to do was to put himself between Lance and whatever this planet’s equivalent of a sabre-tooth tiger was, and voila. No more Lance-kebabs.

Hm. Kebabs. Hunk added them to his mental list of “Recipes To Learn.”

Anyhow, Hunk was Lance’s only hope if it came to distracting a predator with foot-long teeth. Not that Hunk was fixating on the foot-long teeth. Or how they might sink into his jugular. God, he hated hostile planets. And this planet practically oozed hostility. There were thorns on the fucking _fruit_ , for Chrissakes. There was even a malevolence to the trees, and how they loomed over him with bent, twisted backs, like a coven of old witches gathering around a sacrifice.

Hunk shivered. He had to retrieve Lance and get the hell out of here. The forest emanated a palpable sense of menace, and maybe it was that eighteenth-century Gothic novel Pidge had forced him to read as part of her impromptu Paladin book club, but Hunk was seeing shadows everywhere. Shifting, leafy shadows. That were somehow more than just leafy.

When Hunk finally found Lance, it was in a forest clearing, strung up like a puppet by thick, oily, intensely green vines. From the vines hung freakishly large, man-sized flowers that were a royal purple at the center, lightening to a strangely obscene pink at the tips. Giant stamens protruded from their depths like fuzzy, feathery, orangey-yellow penises, raining a dusty pollen down on Lance’s hair. Lance sneezed. The movement shook the flowers, and a stray stamen almost impaled him on its disturbingly spongy head.

For a frozen, horrified moment, Hunk thought Lance was about to be penetrated in multiple orifices by a gargantuan sentient plant, but the tentacle monster theory was debunked when he saw that Lance was methodically sawing through one of the vines with his pocket knife, and the vine wasn’t expending any effort on keeping Lance where he was. Nor was the stamen engaging in any active molestation.

“Phew.” Hunk sighed in relief. “You okay up there?”

“Yep,” said Lance, tumbling gracelessly to the ground when the severed vine released him. Now there was grass in his hair, too. He looked like an elfin earth deity, oddly fey and pretty, and Hunk blinked. He’d never thought of Lance as pretty, before. Except for that one time they’d gotten drunk on Altean alcohol that had been fermenting for ten thousand years.

“How’d you even end up in there?”

“I thought the buds were edible. Easier to eat than all that goddamn thorny fruit. I tried climbing up there to pluck ’em, but I got stuck. So sue me.”

Hunk would never sue anyone for trying to get him food—truly a noble pursuit—so he just shrugged. “Glad to see you’re fine, buddy.”

“So you’re glad to see me?” There was a peculiar quality to Lance’s voice, something quicksilver and sly, and as he walked toward Hunk, he did this bizarre slinky thing with his hips. Almost a sashay. But when did Lance ever sashay? “And you think I’m fine?”

Hunk gawked.

“Hella fine, even?” Lance winked.

“Er,” said Hunk. “What?”

But Lance just sashayed up to him and pressed against Hunk with his whole body, a body that Hunk was abruptly aware of as being both wiry and whipcord-thin. Breakable. A spark of unexpected lust flashed through him at that, at the sudden realization of how much bigger than Lance he was, how much taller and broader and stronger.

And Lance actually _gasped_ , as if he’d had the same realization, with the same reaction. Arousal.

Hunk carefully backed away from Lance. A gradual panic was beginning to suffuse him. This was wrong. Very, very wrong.

It got even wronger when Lance followed him, reestablishing all that unnecessary bodily contact, like Hunk was a particularly fragrant bouquet of catnip and Lance was a cat determined to roll in him like a debauched maid in a bale of hay.

And Hunk was mixing his metaphors. Similes. Whichever. That was never a good sign.

“Lance,” Hunk said cautiously, “you should wash that pollen off before you get any nearer to me. It’s… Well, it’s having an effect on me, and it’s clearly having an effect on you—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s an aphrodisiac, dumbass. Even I can tell that much.”

But Lance still didn’t budge. There was an unfamiliar scent surrounding him, pungent and sweet, and it was so heady that it was messing with Hunk’s mind, shutting it down even further with every second that passed. Lance’s pupils were blown and were ringed with a rich purple that matched the precise shade of those humongous purple flowers.

“We need to get back to the shuttle,” Hunk said, but he wasn’t budging, either. Damn it. What was wrong with his feet? Why weren’t they listening to him and running far, far away?

“And you need to give it to me.”

“Give what to you?” Hunk croaked, terrified of the answer.

“That big dick of yours, that’s what.”

“Y-you think about the size of my dick?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I think about the sizes of _everyone’s_ dicks. I think about dicks, period.”

Hunk frowned. This was the pollen’s influence, wasn’t it? “Dude, you wouldn’t normally have confessed that to me before, like, properly coming out to me and the team—”

“Oh, please, like everyone doesn’t know I’m flaming bi.”

“Why are there flames involved?”

“Because they’re symbols of passion, whaddaya reckon?” Lance’s hand slid down to Hunk’s crotch. “Bet my tongue’s hotter than a flame. Wetter, too.”

“Um, flames aren’t wet,” Hunk scarcely managed to point out, because Lance was inexplicably talking like a porno and Hunk was inexplicably into that. How many holovids had Lance seen to be able to talk like that? There was no chance he had any real experience. Neither of them did.

Which was another reason this was a Bad Idea.

“This is a Bad Idea,” Hunk said, attempting to convey the capitals through selective emphasis. “We’re virgins. You’re a virgin. I’m a virgin. Our first times shouldn’t be—” But then the air evaporated from Hunk’s lungs, because Lance was _kneading_ him. Through his pants. And Hunk was… Hunk wasn’t just getting hard. He was already hard. He’d been hard. Since when had he been hard?

“Mm-hm,” Lance said distractedly, eyes glazing over as he cupped the shape of Hunk’s cock. “You were saying?”

Hunk growled. It shocked him, that he was capable of growling, and that Lance’s breath stuttered in response.

“C’mon, big guy. Fuck my mouth like you wanna. ’Cause you definitely wanna. You’re lookin’ at me like you’re going to break me into my component parts. In a fun way.”

“Breaking people isn’t supposed to be fun.”

“What if they want to be broken? What if I want you stretching my jaw until it _hurts_?”

“Jesus, Lance—”

“I’d offer you my ass, but we don’t have any proper lube and I don’t have the patience for you to prep me.” Lance leaned in and whispered in Hunk's ear, the whisper silky with intent: “So you'll have to settle for my mouth.”

And then, Lance simply slid to his knees, sliding his palms down Hunk’s chest as he went.

Hunk literally, physically could not bring himself to move. Maybe he would’ve been able to resist if this was just the pollen causing Lance to act all mechanical and soulless, but what got to Hunk was that Lance was still so… Lance. As sassy and impatient and demanding as ever. He hadn’t been stripped of his personhood.

Great, now Hunk was thinking about stripping Lance. Stripping Lance _violently_. Buttons flying everywhere. And Lance’s outfit didn’t even have buttons. Could zippers fly off like buttons? They probably wouldn’t be as theatrical.

“What’re you thinkin’ about?” Lance slurred, as if proximity to Hunk’s cock was making him drunk. He unbuckled Hunk’s belt and pressed his cheek against the bulge in Hunk’s underwear.

Hunk squeaked.

“I’m thinking about your dick so deep in my throat that I fuckin’ pass out from lack of oxygen,” Lance said, almost conversationally, in puffs of damning, paralyzing warmth against Hunk’s cotton-clad erection. “What about you?”

“I…” There was a purplish hue eating away at the edges of Hunk’s vision, but he couldn’t look away from Lance. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d been bribed with every woodfired pizza in the universe. “I’m thinking about making you take it until you cry. Every—” Hunk’s words hitched, because he couldn’t believe he was saying this, couldn’t understand where it was coming from, but aware in some dark, awful corner of himself that it was coming from _him_. Not the pollen. Him. All the pollen was doing was exposing the monstrous hunger that had always lurked within him, a hunger to claim and destroy. “Every last inch of me.”

“And there’re so many inches, too.” Lance was almost dreamy as he tugged at Hunk’s Y-fronts, freeing Hunk’s cock. It slapped the cheek Lance had been rubbing against it, the sound meaty and horribly audible, and Lance mewled as if he’d never desired anything more.

Hunk’s legs trembled. The world seemed to be tilting on its axis. It was unreal, seeing Lance leaning in to inhale Hunk’s scent, and Hunk wondered whether Lance liked it, the musk Hunk often smelled on his own hand after jerking off. Which, yeah, stupid question, because Lance was _murmuring_ at it, murmuring sweet, filthy nothings directly at Hunk’s dick, heaping praises on it that it didn’t deserve. It was just average, wasn’t it? Surely it wasn’t “huge,” even if Lance said it was.

Hunk had heard the phrase “cock worship” bandied about in the dorms before, occasionally accompanied by dirty magazines and covert sniggers, but he’d never truly comprehended the term until now. Lance was giving Hunk tiny, kittenish licks that flickered against him just like the flames Lance had promised earlier, and when Lance tired of licking he flattened his tongue against Hunk’s flesh and dragged it up Hunk’s entire length, and then down again, and then up, drooling all the while.

Hunk’s cock was getting wetter and wetter, saliva and pre-ejaculate giving it a glossy sheen. He felt wet all over, in fact, sweating copiously underneath his clothes. Perspiration trickled ticklishly down his forehead. His erection twitched and jerked, blurting pre-come, its clear, sticky threads clinging to Lance’s friction-swollen mouth and giving them a soft, inviting gleam.

 _The galaxy’s most evil lip-balm_ , Hunk thought semi-hysterically, gaping in disbelief as he watched his fingers fist in Lance’s hair. _Don’t yank, don’t yank_ , he repeatedly told himself, but nope, his fingers weren’t listening to him either. They yanked, and Lance made this startled _ah!_ noise that had Hunk picturing, immediately and helplessly, what it would be like to spread Lance out on a bed somewhere and drive a cock into his tight little ass. Would Lance make the same noise, only louder?

“Getinmegetinmegetinme,” Lance was saying, a muffled, constant buzz against Hunk’s skin, parting his lips agonizingly slowly, as if teasing himself as much as he was Hunk. Then, as if he couldn’t bear to torment himself anymore, his lower lip sagged until it was cushioning Hunk’s cock, the curve of that lip plush and sinfully full, and before Hunk could prepare himself, he was _in_ there, in the slick, slippery, endless give of Lance’s mouth.

“Oh. Oh, fuck. Lance, stop. Lance, _stop_ , you can’t breathe like that—”

Lance gurgled interrogatively, and he wasn’t even—god, he wasn’t even looking at Hunk anymore. Not really. Lance’s gaze had gone blank and bestial, like an animal’s, and he just kept sinking down and down and down, past what had to have been a gag reflex, once, before pollen from an alien flower had apparently transformed Lance into an incubus.

Hunk groaned, because it was like being submerged in liquid quicksand. A heat surpassing that of molten glass surrounded him, rising above him like the searingly bright surface of a sea in which he was drowning, spikes of sunlight spearing him even as he fought for breath… and failed.

Lance just sat there, eyelashes fluttering closed, moaning around his mouthful and letting it fill him. He appeared to be in a trance, swaying minutely but otherwise utterly overwhelmed, incapable of any independent action.

 _It has to be me_ , Hunk realized distantly. _I have to get us out of this. I have to fuck his mouth. Give it to him like he asked me to_.

So that was what Hunk did. He reached out with a damp, trembling palm to cradle Lance’s face, holding it gently as he began to rock back and forth. At the start, he thrust into Lance’s mostly-slack mouth with care—as much care as he could afford—but then his caution splintered under the weight of all that sheer, beautiful sensation, and minutes later, Hunk was rutting into Lance’s mouth with cut-off snarls.

He wanted to be considerate. He did. He wanted to avoid injuring Lance. But Hunk’s hips snapped forward more savagely every time Lance let himself be moved like a puppet, every time Lance _submitted_ , because that was exactly what Lance was doing. Lance’s eyelids were no longer closed, but half-open, lazy slits that were catlike in their patience, as if he was awaiting Hunk’s pleasure rather than pursuing his own, and as if nothing Hunk did to him— _nothing_ —could ever hurt him.

There was a trust in it, beyond the brain-wiping muzziness of the pollen, and that trust called out to Hunk, sank its tender talons into his heart and squeezed, until the blood pumped through him faster and faster, engorging his cock even more and likely bruising Lance’s throat.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Hunk repeated over and over again, even as his treacherous imagination hissed, remorseless and serpentine: _Can’t wait to fuck you for real, face-down and sobbing into the mattress, my cock in your ass, my teeth buried in the back of your neck_. Image after image of Lance, defiled and debased in every possible position, shook through Hunk like earthquakes.

He was falling to pieces, shattering from the inside out. The cracks that had formed in Hunk’s mind had spread to his very soul, and from there, outward, to his body, that shuddered and jerked as orgasm overtook it and made it spill load after load of semen into Lance’s mouth. It slopped out of Lance, dribbling down Lance’s chin, and Hunk panted, stunned, when he saw that Lance’s trousers were instantly and visibly soaked, as if Lance had—

Had Lance come in his pants? Untouched? Just because Hunk had come in _him_?

The epiphany rippled through Hunk like a shockwave. He shot another spurt into Lance, and another, desperate throughout it all not to mangle Lance’s hair in his fists, not to wound Lance any more than he absolutely had to, any more than Lance had asked him for.

When it was done, Lance slumped forward to rest against Hunk’s thigh, breathing deeply and calmly, as if drifting off to sleep. His lips were a wreck, so brutally used that their redness resembled a burn, and there were tear-stains underneath Lance’s eyes that Hunk hadn’t noticed.

And then there was the sodden fullness soiling the seat of Lance’s pants. Proof that Lance had liked it. Proof that—

Was it Lance that had liked it, though? Or was it the pollen?

Hunk tucked himself back in, his fingers sluggish and clumsy. He was out of it, like he’d been on an acid trip. Nonetheless, it was his responsibility to check if Lance was okay, so he knelt before Lance, facing him and taking in his distinctly sleepy demeanor.

“Hey,” Hunk said quietly, touching Lance as gingerly as he could. “Are you all right? Can you stand?”

“Mrgh,” Lance said, followed by an intoxicated, “Y’were awesome. W’should do’ish mo’often.”

Which—

Hunk _refused_ to translate that. On principle. His reason was being restored to him, albeit haltingly, reminding him that bringing Lance to safety was his top priority, just like it had been at the onset of this godawful incident. Lance was thoroughly asleep now, exhaustion and satiation writ across his features in equal measure, so Hunk had no choice but to haul the sleeping Lance over his shoulders—thankfully broad enough to carry miscellaneous passengers—and chart a snail’s path back through the forest to the rest of the team.

Hunk also refused to contemplate whether what had just transpired had ruined months of what Hunk had thought was an ordinary friendship.

What if it had never been ordinary, at all?

 

* * *

 

Sneaking past a curious Pidge was about as doable as sneaking past Cerberus at the gates of hell. She considered them, narrow-eyed, and as much as Hunk attempted concealing Lance—and Lance’s come-sodden trousers—from view, Pidge picked up on what had happened, anyway.

She wasn’t nearly as scandalized as Hunk had feared she’d be.

“I see,” she said sagely. “So you ran into the matchmaker orchids.”

Hunk goggled at her. “The what?”

“I was doing a scan of the planet’s ecosystem while you were gone, and I saw a species that bore a distinct similarity to plants generally classified as matchmakers—plants that cause mammals to mate and therefore to procreate, producing more offspring with which to pollinate the plants. It’s a sophisticated survival mechanism.”

“What the heck?” Hunk said feelingly.

Pidge approached them in a businesslike manner. “I’m gonna take a sample.”

“You’re not going to take a _sample_ ,” Hunk said, appalled.

Pidge leveled a glare at him. “Of the pollen,” she explained flatly.

“Oh.” Hunk went pink. “Of course. Um. Go ahead.”

Pidge hesitated. “You should know that matchmaker orchids don’t compel people to do anything they weren’t already predisposed to doing.”

“What—what does that mean?”

“It can’t forge or force attraction. It can only remove inhibitions that might otherwise have controlled said attraction.”

Hunk clutched Lance’s limp body even closer to him, acutely conscious of its proportions, its beloved familiarity, and the suspicion he had begun to harbor that perhaps their encounter hadn’t progressed completely without their volition. Not that he’d say so to Pidge. “Where’re Shiro and Keith?” he asked instead.

“Still at the shuttle’s rear, finishing their repairs.” Pidge regarded Hunk seriously. “In Shiro’s capacity as leader and de facto ship’s counselor, I recommend you discuss with him what you and Lance did.” She paused, then corrected, “Had to do.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hunk yelped. “Talk to my space dad about sex? No!”

“It’s that or go without counseling and end up losing your space bro.”

“He’s not my—” Urgh, that wasn’t correct. “I won’t lose him.”

“Won’t you?” Pidge said cryptically.

Before Hunk could argue, Pidge proceeded to escort them to the shuttle’s infirmary, where she took her sample of pollen from Lance’s hair and vanished, ostensibly to the lab.

Losing Lance. That couldn’t happen, could it? Sure, things might be awkward between them for a while, but they’d get better. Wouldn’t they?

 

* * *

 

After Lance awoke in the infirmary, Keith and Shiro visited briefly to offer uncomfortable reassurances, but Pidge remained AWOL, likely still decoding the pollen’s DNA sequence or applying her research to forage for food on her own. In hindsight, they should’ve assigned her to the job, because of her extensive knowledge of botany.

Hunk was eventually left alone with Lance, given privacy for reasons Hunk was too scared to dwell on—reasons that involved conversing about what had occurred, like adults, and coping with it in a healthy fashion. Hunk wasn’t adept at coping, and even when he did cope, it wasn’t healthily. Baking and consuming fifteen trays of cookies didn’t count as coping “healthily.”

How many cookies would it take Hunk to deal with this?

 _I won’t lose him_ , Hunk had said. But he hadn’t said it with any confidence.

Technicalities. Those were relatively harmless details to focus on. Sharing Pidge’s spectacularly nerdy brand of insight couldn’t do them any harm. Besides, Lance had a right to know.

“She says, um.” Hunk studied his fingernails nervously. “Pidge says the pollen helps you lose your inhibitions, but it doesn’t give you inclinations you didn’t already have.”

“Could’ve told you that,” Lance said, and Hunk’s attention swung to him in amazement.

“You what?”

“I just. I mean, remember what I said about dicks? I do think about them, but yours… I think about it a lot. A lot more. More than other dicks, is what I’m saying.”

“Holy crap,” Hunk said faintly. “I’ve… I’ve been into you, too. Since we got drunk on Allura’s stash and ended up grounded for two weeks—”

“Worth it, though.”

“Totally. I thought you were sexy, back then, all flushed and touchy-feely. Didn’t wanna admit what it meant.”

“Until now.”

Hunk nodded. “Until now.”

Lance grinned, but it was a wobbly grin, as afraid as it was brave. “Until you face-fucked me like a goddamn porn star.”

Hunk hunched in shame. “I was too rough with you. I’m sorr—”

“Nah. Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t… It wasn’t bad. For a first time.” Lance cleared his throat. “Not even remotely bad.”

“It wasn’t?” Hunk said incredulously.

“I got to lose my virginity to someone I find attractive. And someone,” Lance mumbled, not meeting Hunk’s eyes, “someone I care about.”

Hunk’s jaw dropped.

“Someone I could do it with again. I dunno, we could be… bros with benefits. Or. Something.”

Hunk gawked at Lance. “Something?”

Lance blushed. “Unless you aren’t interested, in which case, let’s forget this conversation ever took place.”

“I—I don’t want to forget!” Hunk exclaimed. Damn it, Lance’s blush was _criminal_.

“You don’t, huh?” Lance fiddled with his blanket.

It struck Hunk, blindingly and devastatingly, that Lance was adorable. Like. Painfully adorable.

Before Hunk could question what he was doing, or kick himself in the nuts for putting that anxious expression on Lance’s face, he leaned in and kissed Lance, directly on the mouth, like they hadn’t done before.

Hunk withdrew quickly, not wanting to impose himself on Lance when Lance was still recovering from their prior misadventures. “I’m more interested in… something. Rather than just being bros with benefits.”

Lance looked pole-axed. “Wow. Uh. That’s how it works, then.”

“What works?”

“Asking somebody out.”

Hunk’s heart decided to pull a complex aerial maneuver inside his ribcage. That, or he was having an aneurysm. An unusually enjoyable aneurysm. He reached out and held Lance’s hand, and then they both stared at their clasped hands in surprise. Lance’s fingers twined around Hunk’s.

“Whoa,” said Lance unsteadily. “I like you.”

“Same. Er. Same here.”

“Good.”

“Good.” Hunk’s thumb drifted over Lance’s knuckles, back and forth, back and forth, and it was making Lance’s breaths speed up as well as his own, so Hunk chose a tactical retreat in favor of ravishing his best-friend-turned-boyfriend twice in a single day. They were dating now. There were rules. Rules of decency and propriety. “I oughta brew you some hot chocolate.”

“You’re yummier than hot chocolate,” Lance muttered, and promptly blushed even redder.

Hunk himself was on the brink of spontaneously combusting, because his corresponding blush was at least several magnitudes more intense than Lance’s. It was practically radioactive. “Right,” he said hoarsely. Decency. Propriety. He had to remember them. “I’ll… I’ll just go and make it, now.”

And Hunk did, escaping the room with alacrity. Hopefully, the sexual tension between them would be down to a manageable simmer by the time he returned with that hot chocolate.

Hopefully.

Yeah, right.

* * *

**fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I’ve only seen, like, 2.5 episodes of the show so far, since I had to stop halfway through the third episode to write this story. As a result, my characterizations of Hunk, Lance and Pidge are based on relatively scant knowledge of their backstories, supplemented by additional reading from the Voltron Wiki. My apologies if their portrayals seem out of character to more seasoned fans.
> 
> Like my writing? Want updates and sneak previews? Follow me on [Tumblr](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


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